


The Tale of Jasquirrel

by jaskiersvalley (connorssock), MixBerkaan



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Transformation, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29198922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/jaskiersvalley, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MixBerkaan/pseuds/MixBerkaan
Summary: It wasn't Jaskier's fault he was secretly exploring the nooks and crannies of Kaer Morhen behind Geralt's back, only to get peckish. The walnuts on a shelf looked too appetising, nobody would miss them if he just so happened to snack on them. If only they hadn't been cursed and now there's a squirrel loose in Kaer Morhen.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 28
Kudos: 151





	The Tale of Jasquirrel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Geraskier Midwinter Reverse Bang.

Kaer Morhen was exciting. It had so many winding halls, rooms to be explored, staircases to clamber up for more and more breath-taking views. Really, Jaskier was quite in love. He was only a little bit miffed that certain areas had been off limits to him over the years. Even Lambert had a tendency to growl at him and chase him out of the basement levels which were declared strictly for witchers only. Except, now that Ciri had arrived, she was deemed close enough to a witcher to be allowed down there. Of course Jaskier did the only sensible, adult and honest thing he could. He sneaked down after them, hiding and exploring without anyone to impede his adventure.

Nothing that Jaskier saw seemed to be dangerous. He wasn’t dumb enough to touch any of the bottles lying around, even the ones that had pretty colours and no labels. As if Jaskier was such a simpleton to touch anything that he was uncertain about. Yet the wolves seemed to happily spend days on end down in these rooms. It was mind boggling what they could be up to. Geralt had said they were brewing potions for the coming year but surely such things didn’t take so long. As Jaskier mused over the practicalities of spending so long down in such dark places, he opened a door, curiosity urging him on. Bingo! It looked like a room of snacks and trinkets. Now that he thought about it, he was quite peckish and there was the best thing, sat on a shelf at eye level. Some tasty nuts, walnuts at that, his favourite kind. Someone had kindly cracked them open already and Jaskier gleefully stepped up, plucking a few pieces from the shelf and popped them in his mouth. They crunched and his eyes slipped shut, a smile on his face. Maybe a little old, the nuts made his mouth tingle which was unusual. However, he could ignore it, focus on the texture and taste that coated his tongue. The tingles spread further and before Jaskier could think to worry, the world went black

“This is the room of cursed objects,” a familiar voice was saying as Jaskier blinked back into awareness. Something was terribly wrong. He felt odd in himself which he’d never done before and the world was looking mighty funky too, all disproportionate. As the door opened, Jaskier remembered he shouldn’t be there and managed to dive onto the shelf with the nuts, trying to hide. “You can look in here but never touch anything. Not without asking us first, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut, Jaskier quivered, hoping he wouldn’t be seen. Maybe, if he wished hard enough, Geralt and Ciri wouldn’t notice him hiding on a shelf. His mind decided to rewind that. He was hiding on a shelf. Which was most definitely not big enough to hold him. Maybe his lower arm but nothing more. Before he could ponder this conundrum any further, Ciri was talking.

“Oh look! That’s so fluffy.”

“Fuck.” There was the sound of a scuffle and the door slamming before Geralt was bellowing. “Eskel! What did we say about cursed animals in the cursed objects room?”

Which, really, was just plain rude. Jaskier righted himself and let out a chitter of annoyance. That wasn’t right though, he didn’t chitter. From outside the door there were some thundering footsteps and hissed arguments. It seemed Eskel was adamant he hadn’t let any kind of creature loose, they didn’t even have a damned squirrel in the keep, they weren’t native to the forest. There was a joint growl of “Lambert” and the sound of people stomping away. It gave Jaskier the perfect opportunity to take stock.

Usually, when Jaskier looked over himself, he had a pleasant dusting of chest hair that he admired. Now, he had a little more than that. Okay, a lot more. He was a fuzzy red mess. At least his fur could have had the courtesy of being the same colour as his hair. Alas, he was looking like a rather red creature of fuzz, his little fingers had tiny sharp claws while his teeth...those were a bit of a disappointment. Large and flat like a rodent’s rather than the fierce gnashers of a predator. So much for maybe being a ferret. Something behind Jaskier twitched and he could feel muscles he’d never had before working to display his mounting displeasure. Whipping around, he didn’t see anything but when he turned his head slowly, he chuffed in pride. His tail was magnificent. More than that. He had never seen a more luscious, vibrant, sinfully soft tail in his life. The ladies of courts dreamed of having that kind of tail making up part of their fur scarf. And now Jaskier was the proud owner of it. His musings were cut short by the door opening.

“That wasn’t my fucking doing.” Lambert was as to the point and rude as ever.

“Language!” Geralt grumbled.

“It’s fucking English!” Three witchers turned to give Ciri a disappointed look and Jaskier had to laugh. The sound had all attention back on Jaskier.

“Now what pest do we have here?” Lambert stalked forward, looking rather menacing. That should have been enough to have anyone cowering, a murderous looking witcher towering over them. Not Jaskier. He pulled himself to his full, squirrel height and launched into a lecture.

If only those present would have understood his tirade. While they were clueless about the irresponsibilities of leaving unlabelled snacks for the unsuspecting bards to eat and then be curse into having a different body.

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” Lambert growled. His hand was poised to snap out and grab Jaskier which really wasn’t something that Jaskier wanted or needed.

Taking matters into his own hands (or were they paws now?), Jaskier deftly hopped from the shelf to the table, cursing Lambert out as he went. A hand came dangerously close to him as he sailed through the air and Jaskier barked out a sound of pure anger. When Lambert stepped closer to the table, he barked again.

“I know that tone!” Ciri was vibrating in excitement and she shoved Lambert out of the way. “Jaskier uses that same tone when someone tries to talk shit about Geralt.”

“Language!” It seemed Geralt had his priorities straight - Ciri’s manners first, potentially cursed bard second. Charming.

Now that Ciri seemed to have recognised him, Jaskier swaggered to the edge of the table with an excited chitter and pointed at her.

“Fuck.”

Geralt’s misery was laughed at by Lambert who declared he was out and he tugged Eskel with him. As they disappeared from view, Lambert’s cackling laughter echoed through the rooms.

“I can still hear you,” Geralt called after them.

“Get fucked!”

Grumbling under his breath, Geralt turned back to the other issue at hand. Lambert’s manners were a lost cause, hopefully his bard-turned-squirrel wasn’t. He turned and watched as Ciri had pressed up against the table and was watching what was presumably Jaskier hopping closer to the edge of the table, eyeing him up.

"Squeaker-Squeak...fuck...Squeaken.” It wasn’t like Geralt spoke squirrel but he had to try, even if Ciri was staring at him with bit eyes filled with barely contained laughter.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to speak squirrel.”

If squirrels could laugh, Gearlt was certain that is exactly what the one on the table was doing.

“He understood when I said it was Jaskier, you don’t need to speak squirrel at him.” The tone Ciri used was utterly serious and Geralt was going to have to have words with Eskel about teaching her sarcasm. They were meant to be teaching Ciri the basics of self-defence and meditation, not helping her pick up the worst of their own character traits. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Geralt tried to centre himself.

“Can you tell us what happened?” A series of squeaks and chitters didn’t really help shed light on the matter. “Fine. Can you show us?”

At least the squirrel that was allegedly Jaskier hopped up onto a shelf and settled next to some walnuts. Some cursed walnuts. It had been something Lambert had picked up on his Path a few years back, nobody had given it much thought. It sat in its spot on the shelf, merrily making witcher medallions buzz. It was quite the novel sensation, having a medallion buzz thanks to so many low level curses around. Eskel had once mentioned it being quite good fun with a wink but Geralt had demande they never speak of it again. Though now all he could think of was that the bucket of rags on the floor was one of the few things not cursed in that room. That was beside the point, what mattered was that Jaskier was hopping angrily by the nuts and seeming to take his frustration out on it by biting into them and spitting the pieces out.

There was only one thing Geralt could do. He turned to Ciri and solemnly said, “And this is why you never eat or drink anything down here.”

Jaskier screeched angrily and leapt off the shelf and made a break for the door. He had obviously forgotten that in leaner times Geralt hunted squirrels for dinner because he was snatched off the floor and brought to eye level.

“This will take a bit of time to figure out. Don’t be a pest until then.”

That was like telling a dog not to steal the unattended leg of lamb off the dinner table. A very well trained dog might be able to resist but, as they all knew, Jaskier could only behave if his reputation depended on it. Which meant there was only one response Jaskier could truly give to that. He sank his teeth into Geralt’s thumb and scurried away when he was dropped.

Cursing followed Jaskier through the keep and he clambered higher to avoid the careful quens Eskel was sending his way to contain him. Nobody had been able to tie Jaskier down as a human and they sure as heck weren’t going to do it to him in squirrel form.

“Just aard him off,” Lambert suggested and Jaskiers screeched to show his displeasure. “I’d catch you with a net you pillock!”

Aard was out of the question so Lambert did the only possible thing when he wasn’t in possession of the single Wolf Witcher Brain Cell that had been allocated to the School of Wolf. He started climbing the rafters.

From the ground Eskel, Geralt and even Vesemir were yelling at him while Ciri watched with great interest. Higher and higher Lambert climbed, Jaskier hopping just out of his reach until he was at the highest possible point. With a gracefully nimble turn, Jaskier changed direction and hopped down while Lambert watched him, betrayal written over his face. Gingerly, he tried to climb down but he looked firmly stuck.

“Just aard him off,” Eskel suggested, loud enough for Lambert to hear.

“Aard me off and I’ll igni your eyebrows off.”

“I’d catch you with a net you pillock!” Geralt didn’t even bother trying to hide his laughter at Lambert’s indignant yelling.

As soon as he was back on the floor, Jaskier picked the safest spot for a squirrel. He sat by Ciri’s foot and stared up at her sadly, two front paws hanging limply by his stomach. The helpless look worked a treat and Ciri scooped him up, settling him on her shoulder. As she couldn’t see him, Jaskier turned to look at Geralt and rubbed his two little paws together to make a show of how his plan had worked.

Sadly, Jaskier couldn’t spend his whole day on Ciri’s shoulder. Especially not when Yennefer arrived and glared at him.

“Idiot bard and his idiot mishaps.” She glowered as she worked and Jaskier sat atop a table, looking rather forlorn. Really, he had quite enjoyed being a squirrel and had a few more things he wanted to try before returning to his human form. Though, admittedly, he did miss opposable thumbs and his lute. Chittering and screeching just didn’t have the same melodious quality, no matter how hard he tried.

With a sigh, Yennefer shook her head. “It’s not a spell I can break.”

Which induced a bit of a panicked flurry from everyone, including Jaskier. Lambert laughed, pointing at Jaskier and teasing him about forever more being a rodent. He was silenced by Eskel gruffly shoving him.

“If you don’t quiet down, I’m tying you down and forcing a few nuts down your throat.” Lambert scowled at him but Eskel was undeterred. “Then maybe you’ll be able to climb down rafters with as much success as you get up them.”

Their bickering descended into roughhousing and Geralt had to bodily shove them out the door so they could wrestle in the corridor. Turning back, he stared at Jaskier who seemed rather indifferent to the news.

“Will the curse wear off?” Vesemir asked as he gave Jaskier another cursory glance.

“Unlikely. We’ll need to figure out how to break it.” Which was all well and good but it wasn’t like cursed objects came with a manual on how to uncurse a peckish bard. “I’ll take a piece of the nut he ate and ask a few other mages to look into it. That’s the best I can do.”

A few more days as a squirrel didn’t sound so bad and Jaskier merrily hopped from the table, scurrying towards the door. He chuffed in annoyance when a large, gloved hand picked him up mid-bound. Being raised to Geralt’s eye level, Jaskier tried his best to look innocent.

“I won’t hesitate to put you on a leash,” Geralt warned. “Metal chains even you can’t bite through.”

Really! There was no need for such threats. Jaskier tried to convey his disdain by rolling his eyes and kicking at Geralt’s hand.

It had Vesemir stepping closer. “Don’t hold him so tight! You’re crushing him!”

Immediately Geralt was loosening his grip and allowing Jaskier to lie across his palms. It was good to know that it was so easy to get out of a predicament - pretend to be dying and everything was resolved. That was definitely a technique Jaskier was going to have to try once he was back to being human.

A few ground rules had to be laid down before Jaskier was allowed to roam. He wasn’t to enter any part of the keep he hadn’t been in before. At first Jaskier wanted to protest and do exactly the opposite but Eskel quickly put it into perspective.

“If you’re in trouble, we might not be able to get to you. Or even know where you are to try and help.”

Very quickly, Jaskier was nodding along. He had no desire to be stranded in some dark, crumbling corner of the keep and squeaking for help that might never come. Other rules included: no riling Lambert up, no pranks on anyone and only eating squirrel appropriate food. It was the last one that showed the witcher just how well a squirrel could truly pout. Little front legs crossed over his chest, Jaskier’s nose crinkled up. How they expected him to survive without wine was inconceivable. Alas, the witchers stood firm and Vesemir went to squirrel-proof the kitchen just to be safe. All the wine was locked away in cupboards Jaskier was too small to open and not even Ciri would assist him in his quest to drink anything other than boring old water.

Dinner was a rather lacklustre affair. Without Jaskier to chatter, sing and fill the silence, the wolves slipped back into their usual habits of quiet contemplation. At least they had made an attempt for Jaskier. There was a small plate of nuts and someone (probably Eskel) had even managed to fashion a small cushion for Jaskier to sit on next to it. It was about as dignified as it could get. Nobody missed the longing looks Jaskier sent the goblets of wine. Alas, any time he tried to make a dash for one or slowly creep closer, they were moved out of his reach. If there was anything worse than a squirrel at the dinner table, it was a despondent squirrel at the dinner table.

They couldn’t give Jaskier wine though, too worried that it might not sit well with him. So they all suffered the wistful, chittering sighs and longing looks. The next day, nobody had wine.

There was no sign of Yennefer the following day, still away and doing whatever thing it was sorceresses did. The only time Jaskier had dared to make a lewd guess, he’d spent the rest of the week washing itching powder from his smalls. Within a day the novelty of being a squirrel had worn off and Jaskier was bored. In fact, he was pining for his human form to the point that he’d unearthed the painting of him standing victorious over some wyrm and stared at it. And stared and stared. And stared. Frankly, it was a little pathetic.

The others tried everything to cheer Jaskier up but they had a very morose squirrel on their hands. He only gave Ciri envious looks as she learned to braid Geralt’s hair. It obviously pained Jaskier that he couldn’t help Ciri make it a tighter, neater braid. By pure chance Lambert flopped down next to Geralt with a grin.

“The princess is turning you into a princess,” he snickered. “Thank fuck I don’t have long locks like yours.”

While Lambert didn’t have Geralt’s long hair, Jaskier did eye it up. In the blink of an eye he was hopping up onto Lambert’s shoulder and, from there, to the top of his head. The intention had been to make a nest of his hair but, as soon as he landed, Jaskier started hopping from paw to paw and chuffing in disgust.

“What?” Lambert shook his head to dislodge his sudden passenger. It only made Jaskier dig his little claws in and cling on while screeching.

It took Geralt seizing Jaskier and pulling him off Lambert to silence the room. They all stared at each other for a moment before Jaskier let out a sad little chitter and began shaking his paws in disgust.

“The fuck is his problem?” Lambert was outraged and confused. He watched as Jaskier began to wipe his paws on Geralt’s sleeve, nose scrunched up in disgust.

“I think-” Geralt said slowly, trying to hold back the laugh that threatened to make his voice wobble, “-Jaskier has opinions about your excessive use of hair goo.”

A mournful little huff from Jaskier confirmed the theory. The look of betrayal he sent Lambert was just an overkill. However, Geralt took pity and he scooped his squirrelified bard up and popped him on top of his own head.

“There, some lard and grease free hair just for my Jasquirrel.”

Sharp little claws dug into his scalp at the name but Geralt only laughed, enjoying being able to tease Jaskier. Plus, it was kind of nice to have a light weight skittering around on the top of his head, fussing with his hair. It was almost like a strange massage.

That wonderful peace lasted all of maybe a minute before the fussing from Jaskier turned into something more anxiety inducing and jerk riddled. The problem was, Geralt couldn’t see the top of his own head and Ciri was busy admiring the handle of one of Lambert’s daggers so it left Geralt to carefully reach up to try and pull Jaskier down.

One moment he was trying to grasp a wriggling ball of angry fur and the next there was a screeching banshee tumbling down the side of his head, tangled in his hair and clawing to get out. The more Geralt tried to help, the worse the tangle became and Jaskier was thoroughly caught in his hair.

“Calm down!” Geralt could feel the axii Lambert had cast and while he could resist, Jaskier stopped squirming though he was still panting hard from his panic. “Good. Let’s have a look at you. Geralt, don’t you fucking move.”

A less than gentle hand gripped Jaskier and tried to untangle him. Hair was wrapped around his paws, looped around his neck and body - at least his tail was free. Each tug on his hair had Gearlt grumbling until Lambert let out an exasperated growl.

“Ciri, get the scissors. This is a lost cause.”

Any resistance from Geralt was lost in a yell as Lambert lost his axii and Jaskier sank his teeth into his finger.

“You little bastard! Calm the fuck down!”

Another blast of axii but now there was blood in Geralt’s hair too and he was almost glad it was being cut out. He was due a haircut anyway. The tangled mess that was Jaskier was finally pulled free and Lambert cast axii again just to be sure before he allowed Ciri to unwrap the worst from around Jaskier.

“Little fucker has sharp teeth,” he grumbled and looked at Geralt. “You look ridiculous. Want me to chop the rest off.”

Eyes wide, Geralt shook his head vehemently and reared away from Lambert and the scissors. “I’ll let Eskel do it.”

Shrugging, Lambert let the scissors clatter on the table. “Don’t come crying to me when he makes you look like a ragged mop.”

“It’s still better than the soggy privy paper look you’ve got going on.”

As Lambert left, Jaskier shook himself off, trying to rid himself of the last vestiges of a fierce axii. He chittered as he looked over the mound of white hair next to him and the strands still wrapped tightly around him. It took a few thoughtful bites and chewing at the hair before Jaskier was spitting it out and watching with contempt as it all fell away. If squirrels could huff with indignation, that was exactly what Jaskier did.

Eskel did indeed cut Geralt’s hair shortly after, leaving him with an interesting short at the side but long at the top style that he was certain was fashionable somewhere. Possibly Skellige. It wasn’t important, what was more intriguing was the way Jaskier now avoided Geralt and his hair. It broke Geralt’s heart a little and worry spiked through him.

“What if he progressively forgets how to be human?” he asked Vesemir quietly in the kitchen. They could peer out into the dining hall where Eskel was approaching the table where Jaskier was munching on a nut.

“Then Yennefer better hurry,” Vesemir said, ever the well of warm reassurance and solid advice.

“He’s been skittish around me like a wild animal. And he bit Lambert.”

“He would bite Lambert as a human too, I wouldn’t worry about that.” Which was fair enough. To be honest, Geralt was pretty certain almost everyone had bitten Lambert out of frustration at some point in their life.

Maybe Geralt’s worries were a little premature because Eskel was allowed to plop himself down on the bench near Jaskier and the traitorous little fuzzy bastard offered him a nut. With a grateful rumble Eskel accepted the nut. In exchange he presented Jaskier with a tiny hat that had an even tinier little feather jauntily adorning it. Jaw clenched, Geralt watched as the hat was carefully placed onto Jaskier’s head after a thorough inspection. Jealousy flared through him at the sight of Eskel getting on better with Jaskier than Geralt himself. To add insult to injury, Eskel pulled a small lute made of an acorn out of his breast pocket.

“I wouldn’t worry just yet,” Vesemir helpfully patted Geralt on the back and turned back to making dinner.

The final stab in the heart was when Jaskier clambered up Eskel’s arm, lute carefully held in his mouth. From his shoulder he was up on the top of his head and arranging his hair into a nest. It was the perfect length to arrange into something comfortable without getting tangled. Geralt was absolutely not going to ask for a haircut like Eskel’s just because Jaskier might make a nest on his head rather than Eskel’s.

Dinner was a sad affair as far as Geralt was concerned. Jaskier, in his little hat and lute by his side, ate his nuts with his back turned to Geralt. If Geralt said so much as a word to him, the only response was an angry little twitch of his tail.

“Jasquirrel,” Lambert called as dinner was finished. “Come with me, I’ve got something for you.”

A fuzzy butt bounced out of the dining hall, hot on Lambert’s heels, lute slung across his back so very much like when he was human and hurrying after Geralt. The wink Lambert sent Geralt just as he turned to close the door didn’t bode well.

It took Geralt half an hour of angrily washing up while Eskel dried the dishes before he finally spoke up.

“It’s not my fault he got tangled in my hair! Why is he acting like I deliberately did it?”

Eskel had nothing to say to that so he kept his mouth shut. This was something between Geralt and Jaskier so it was safer to keep his nose out of it. Which was advice Lambert seemed to take great delight in ignoring.

“I mean-” Geralt was definitely whining at that point, “-I tried doing my best for him. But he’s been more than happy to ignore me in favour of you and Lambert.”

“Maybe he’s hurting too.” Eskel spoke softly. “Each time he looks at you, all he can think of is how he can’t be what you love. And that’s got to be painful.”

“Fuck.”

The last dish or two abandoned, Geralt hurriedly tried to find Jaskier. Following the sound of Lambert’s laughter, Geralt quickly tracked them down to the basement where Lambert brewed his moonshine. There, in the middle of a workbench was Jaskier, standing stiff and listing to the side. After a hiccough, Jaskier righter himself and reached for the pear on the tray, paws swaying.

“What the fuck have you done to him?” Geralt growled as he stepped into the room, rounding on Lambert.

“Nothing! Nothing!” Lambert scrambled backwards to get out of Geralt’s way. “I told him he can’t have wine but I had some fermented pears he’d be welcome to!”

A soft, high pitched hiccough came from the bench and Geralt watched as Jaskier froze again, leaning to one side. He almost toppled but Geralt caught him in his palm before he fell. On closer inspection, Jaskier most definitely looked and smelled drunk. As Geralt tried to lift him, he rolled back onto the bench and made a very thorough attempt at getting back to the pear. Only, he couldn’t quite manage a straight line or to even scuttle in an orderly fashion so Geralt got to watch as Jaskier belly flopped in the vague direction of the pear, little arm reaching out to grab a piece and press it into his face while lying down.

“You’ve had enough, I’m cutting you off,” Geralt told him. Angry, drunken chittering was not Geralt’s idea of a nice evening but he couldn’t, in good conscience, let Jaskier gorge himself silly on fermented pear. “Sleep it off and, if you’re feeling okay after it in the morning, you can have some more.”

There was no reasoning with a drunk Jaskier in human form and as a squirrel he seemed even less inclined to listen to logic. So Geralt took his little had, and set it to the side, careful to not let sharp teeth sink into his hand. The lute was a little more tricky to get off Jaskier but he managed that too. By the time Geralt was tucking Jaskier into the small nest made from one of his shirts, his idiot squirrel was fast asleep.

A hungover Jaskier wasn’t exactly a delight. A hungover Jasquirrel was infinitely worse. How a squirrel managed to look for sorry for himself while sulking at the same time was beyond Geralt. Still, he got the pleasure of watching Jaskier hunched over a bowl of squirrel friendly breakfast, looking infinitely glum. When Eskel tried to offer him a capful of water, a piece of carrot was thrown his way with surprising accuracy. The words “I hope you choke on it” could be read from Jaskier’s scowl.

Any threat of having roasted squirrel for dinner was halted by the opening of a portal and Yennefer stepping through. She took in the scene around the breakfast table and grinned. As if she didn’t already have all their attention, she clapped and watched Jaskier shrink away from the noise.

“If you want to be human again, follow me.”

Hungover or not, Jaskier scuttled to follow after Yennefer, chittering at her to slow down - not that she paid him any attention. They walked out of the keep, and to the edge of the forest where Yennefer pulled the cursed walnut piece from her pocket. Leaning down, she presented it to Jaskier.

“Give in to your instincts.” To which, Jaskier slowly brought the nut up to his mouth and gave it a lacklustre nibble. “NO! The other instinct!”

A sigh of relief went up from around the spectators as Jaskier stopped eating. Instead, walnut clutched in one paw, he hopped around, inspecting the surroundings before seemingly settling on an arbitrary patch of ground. Hopping over, he set the walnut to the side and began digging at the cold, hard ground.

“Should we help him?” Ciri asked, watching intently.

“He needs to do this himself,” Yennefer replied, walking to join them.

In the distance Jaskier was finally satisfied with his hole and, with as much care as a squirrel could manage, he put the walnut piece in the ground. Tiny paws swept the earth back over it and he sat back, blinking curiously as nothing happened. At least, not immediately. Though Jaskier looked a little bigger. Then bigger still as a sapling sprouted next to him. As the tree grew so did Jaskier, morphing before their eyes from squirrel to human. By the time a fully grown and matured walnut tree stood bright and proud, Jaskier was back to his usual form.

“Well, that was an adventure!” He declared with a bright laugh then groaned as his hangover caught up with him.

Curiosity got the better of Lambert and he wandered closer, not to look at Jaskier but to inspect the tree. He pulled a walnut from the branches.

“Eat that and you know what happens,” Yennefer warned.

Grumbling, Lambert pocketed the walnut and stepped away. He could always experiment with the walnut later, maybe slip it into Geralt’s dinner. A white squirrel would be most intriguing to see. There were a lot more cursed walnut trees in Kaer Morhen’s future and a lot more squirrel shenanigans, but that’s a story for another time.

**Author's Note:**

> More writing can be found on tumblr @jaskiervalley while more art is on @MixsPixs.


End file.
